


A Change of Stars

by Prentice



Category: Star Trek (2009), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Instant Connection, M/M, Padawan!Kirk, Pre-Slash, Sith!Spock, better not wear a red shirt, slow build romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-25 11:17:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prentice/pseuds/Prentice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A change of stars is sometimes needed to see beyond the vastness of space and the trials of living.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt by yami_no_kab on the st_xi_kink memei, who wanted a ST/SW fic with Spock as a Sith Apprentice, Kirk as a Padawan, McCoy as a Jedi Knight, and a few other specifics along the way. I can't apologize enough for letting this languish on my hard drive for so long!

“I'm a healer not a goddamn diplomat,” Jedi Knight Leonard McCoy grumbled irritably, scowl stretching hard and fierce across his face as he moved swiftly through the empty halls of the Jedi Temple, stomach rumbling. Though it was well past the time for midday meal and he'd supposedly been at liberty for most of the day, he still hadn't managed to find his way to warm meal or a decent drink thanks to a sudden influx of injured patients. Not that the Jedi Council gave a damn.  
  
Scowl deepening even further, Leonard turned a glare onto the all too cheerful padawan keeping pace beside him. “This is your fault, you know. You and your goddamn overeager over achievements. I _knew_ I should have taken a different padawan!”  
  
“You've said that before, Bones,” Jim Kirk replied happily, the self-satisfied smirk and bounce in his step all the more irritating when coupled with the fact that he didn't seem to be at all perturbed that the Jedi Council had just sent them on a wild goddamn goose chase half-way across the galaxy. “You love me, anyway. Admit it.”  
  
A loud inelegant snort was his only response, his pace quickening as they neared their shared living quarters. There were preparations to make, ones that his padawan was surely planning to duck out of as soon as he was able to, and there was still the – other – matter to deal with. Lips thinning, McCoy shot a look of pure venom at a passing padawan, who promptly paled and squeaked, before stopping sharply in front of the nondescript door to his and Jim's quarters.  
  
Finger stabbing at the door's control panel, he quickly stepped inside, eyes sweeping their small front room. It was lived in and welcoming; filled with small touches of both of their lives, loves, and interests. Not exactly the norm when it came to the austere living that most Jedi embraced, but he had never been one to adhere to any sort of code when it came to creature comforts and neither of them were exactly what you would call orthodox when it came to the Order.  
  
No wonder the damn council had picked them.  
  
“Before you go running off to do god knows what with god knows who,” Leonard began, sliding his outer robes off his shoulders and dropping them over a nearby chair before moving towards the small cabinet he knew still held a bottle of Corellian brandy. He needed a drink; had needed a drink from the moment Master Pike and Master Yoda had agreed that he and his padawan should leave immediately for a star base in that Gamma Sector, a largely uncharted section of the universe where, undoubtedly, Jim would get them both killed. “We're going to have a little talk.”  
  
“Bones,” Jim started, expression already setting into that stubborn jut that meant nothing but trouble. Usually for Leonard. Christ, they were both probably going to get shot. Or shot out of an air lock. Or they were going to contract some rare disease that would kill them in a matter of hours.  
  
He poured himself a very large glass of Corellia's finest.  
  
“No, padawan,” he cut in, a small warm spike of satisfaction harpooning through his gut when Jim immediately quieted. 'Padawan' always seemed to be the magic word where the kid was concerned. “I want you to listen to me. I don't know how you managed to wrangle us into this – don't give me that look; I _know_ you, Jim – but you're not going to do anything, and I do mean _anything_ , like you did the last time you hoodwinked the council into giving us a mission.”  
  
“But everything turned out fine!” Jim interjected, blue eyes bright with determination as his hands slid from beneath the folds of his tan robe, fingers spreading wide. “No one died and we managed to get back all the stolen date files to the Rilonan High Council before the end of the day!”  
  
“We were there for a wedding, Jim! A wedding! My god, man, I still don't know how we went from listening to the Rilonan High Chancellor babble on about wedded bliss to space-hopping to some godforsaken backwater planet in Klingon territory in order to recover stolen data files that you, god knows how, found out were stolen but never even thought to mention to me until we were neck deep in trouble!”  
  
Pausing, Leonard downed a large mouthful from his glass, dark eyes staring hard at his best friend and padawan.  Force knew he cared about the kid, but sometimes Jim made him want to rip his hair out. When he wasn't making him proud as hell, anyway.  
  
Sighing, he shook his head, eyes softening. “I won't have it, padawan. Not again. We're doing this by the book. Just this time, you hear?”  
  
For another long moment the two of them stared at each other, Jim's mouth pulling down at the corners. He wasn't happy, Leonard knew. 'By the book' hadn't ever seemed to be in Jim's vocabulary, but Leonard wasn't going to back down on this: they were going to do follow every goddamn Jedi protocol they had to, even if it it meant him dragging his padawan along every step of the way.  
  
Finally, Jim sighed, inclining his head. “Of course, Master. By the book.”


	2. Chapter 2

The cold vastness of space had never bothered Spock - to be bothered by something was illogical and as space was not a being that could be cut down or forced into submission it seemed a pointless exercise to worry about something so far beyond his control – and so, when his Master bid him to travel to a mostly uncharted sector of the universe to a star base of which he knew very little, it had not occurred to him to be apprehensive.

He was an experienced pilot, after all, and while he was not yet fully trained in all the tenets of the Sith, he _was_ a formidable opponent. One who was extremely apt at causing extensive amounts of damage to any species that was foolish enough to challenge him. It would be a terrible miscalculation on their part but one that he considered a valuable step towards becoming a better and more proficient Sith Apprentice and, eventually, Sith Lord who would one day turn his eyes to the Federation that failed to keep alive that which was most precious to him.

Hands folding behind his back, his double-sided lightsaber a light and familiar weight against his hip and thigh, Spock stared out the plexiglass window of his cockpit, watching as stars passed by in a blur of motion. Autopilot had been set and would continue to be so for at least another 91.12 seconds; an ample amount of time to stand and stretch muscles that had not been used for most of the journey thus far. It also gave ample amount of time to reexamine his Master’s instructions:

_The battle droid fell easily beneath the arched swing of his lightsaber, its red glow shining in the yawning darkness of the Narada’s training facility, and landed sparking and smoldering next to the decimated remains of its brothers. A quick flash of sparks flew from the droid’s metal casing, the acrid smell of fried circuitry permeating the air before all was silent. Disengaging his lightsaber, Spock slid seamlessly back into position, breathing steady and unchanged. He was getting better; more skilled, more powerful._

_“Very good, Spock. Very good.”_

_Inclining his head, Spock turned, robes billowing around him as he flowed to one knee, his head bowed respectfully. Heavy footsteps moved towards him, the clomping of boots against metal echoing into nothingness. A hand touched his hair, fingertips brushing the pointed tip of one of his ears, a thumb sweeping down a lock of black hair._

_“What is thy bidding, my Master?”_

_The hand moved again, fingers digging hard into his skull, before pulling away. Spock remained still, neither missing the hand nor abhorring it. He simply breathed._

_“Rise, Spock. I have a mission for you.”_

_Regaining his feet, he stared at his master, taking in the dark liquid eyes, the wicked grin, and strange tattoos that decorated the man’s skin. They were as he always remembered them to be: unchanged by time and the elements. “Master?”_

_“What do you think of the Gamma Sector, my apprentice?” Darth Nero asked, his voice an odd mixture of gravel and the poisonous venom of a predator._

_Blinking, Spock holstered his saber. “Very little, Master. It is largely uncharted. There is one star base near a Federation Class M planet with a few other close range planets being considered Class H, uninhabitable to humans.”_

_“Very good. You will leave for the Gamma Sector immediately. I have already had Ayel prepare your ship. I want you to visit the star base there, see if the Federation is as lax in its security as they were with the one near Arakkis Prime. Report to me immediately of all that you find.”_

_“And if I find nothing of import, Master?” Spock queried his expression blank._

_Something feral and dangerous glittered in his Master’s eyes as the Romulan turned, lips pulling into a terrible smile. “Don’t worry, Spock. You will.”_

The high-pitched beep of the Jellyfish’s autopilot preparing to disengage pulled Spock from his ruminations and propelled him into motion. Unclasping his hands, he moved towards the command chair, sliding easily into the seat even as his fingers glided over the console, lithely pressing buttons and toggling view screens.

He would be entering the Gamma Sector space in: three…two….one…

A large chunk of metal hull careened towards the Jellyfish, its edges scorched and torn. Spock banked hard starboard, the strange sound of metal scraping metal loud inside the small confines of the cockpit. Proximity alarms and alerts began to sound. An electronic voice announced shields at forty percent. Scattered debris – small to large bits of durasteel and hull – drifted chaotically in space, forcing Spock to maneuver on instinct alone through the minefield that had once been the location of Gamma Sector's star base.

Another sizable piece of hull, this one sporting large painted letters, drifted past his view screen in an almost lazy fashion, twirling in a cartwheel. Blinking, Spock continued to guide his ship, mind and body steady and unmoved. "Fascinating."


	3. Chapter 3

Gamma Solarii VI was an M-Class planet abundant with water and rich vegetation. Its atmosphere was high in nitrogen, oxygen, and a few other small trace elements that were commonly found on most habitable planets in the Gamma Sector. Its surface seemed to shimmer blue-green in space and was breathtaking on the view screen; its holographic projection rotating a full three hundred and sixty degrees for better viewing.

Leaning forward in his chair, Jim Kirk rubbed a hand over his chin, cobalt eyes drinking in the small-scale recreation of the planets’ land formations and bodies of water. In many ways the planet was almost identical to Earth, Jim and Bones’ homeworld, with its flora, fauna, and clusters of humanoid life. If what was one the view screen was to be believed, it was a beautiful place with bodies of water that stretched for thousands of miles and land masses that varied as greatly as those on his planet. At least that was if the Federations surveys were correct.

It really was too bad they wouldn’t be seeing much of it. Staring at the slowly revolving holo-planet, Jim frowned. Or maybe they would be.

“Hey Bones,” he called; voice rising unabashedly as he ignored the disgruntled sigh that immediately gusted behind him. Though they had only been travelling for a few hours, the bulk passenger cruiser they had boarded in Coruscant cutting through space at a fixed acceleration, pacing their journey and accounting for every parsec, Jim was bored. It was slow going, too slow, and it was looking only to get worse. Unless Jim made it more interesting.

Determinedly allowing the holographic planet one more revolution, Jim toggled off the screen, watching as the projection flickered and vanished, before turning towards his Master. Who seemed to be resolutely trying to ignore him. Without much success. Jim grinned.

“You want to a play a game of Sabacc? I’ll bet you a bottle of Saurian brandy for – ”

“Jim, I swear to god, if you interrupt my meditation one more time, I’ll stick a hypo in your neck and knock you out for the rest of the trip,” his friend growled, eyes closed and lips pulling down at the corners. His hands were resting on his knees, legs folded carefully beneath him, his outer robes and lightsaber discarded into a messy heap on one of the beds. He’d been that way for well over an hour, face set in grim determination as he tried to center himself.

Jim’s lips twitched. He’d never seen anyone get as pissed off as Bones did while being one with the Force. Not even Master Komack, who was basically a dick even at the best of times.

Blowing out an impatient breath, eyes roaming over their temporarily lodgings, Jim tried to resist the urge to fidget. Or pace around the room. He’d never been good at having patience and that was one of the problems with traveling through space: there was too much time to spare. He was much more of a take-action sort of padawan, much to Bones’ despair.

“Don’t be like that,” he said eventually, pushing himself up and out of the chair, hands absently smoothing his robes back into position. “You’ve been trying for over an hour. Can’t we _do_ something?”

An eyelid cracked open balefully, pinning him in place. “Like your astrophysics paper?”

“Bones!” He cried indignantly. “I finished that last week!”

The other eye opened even as an eyebrow rose skeptically. “Did you turn it in?”

The grin that sprang to Jim’s lips was purely reflexive; bright and far too charming. It was the one that he gave any time someone asked him something he didn’t particularly want to answer. He hadn’t managed to get it to work on Bones yet, but he couldn’t help but hope that one of these days it would.

Apparently, though, that day wasn’t going to be today.

“I didn’t think so,” his Master muttered, eyes rolling as he pushed himself to his feet. “What is it that you want to do? And _don’t_ say Sabacc because I know you cheat. Even if you won’t admit it.”

Jim’s bright grin widened even further. “Now would I do that to you, Master?”

“You did last time.”

Rocking on his feet, hip bumping gently against the holo-vid console, Jim shrugged unrepentantly. “That wasn’t cheating, Bones, that was just creative thinking. And anyway,” he continued hurriedly when the other man made to respond. “You always did suck at card games. I mean, how else do you explain that Larbeyan slave girl who followed us around for weeks when we were on Beta 12 –“

“All right. All _right_.”

“ – and who made those weird little chipmunk-like noises that were really distracting. No wonder that guy wanted to get rid of her. She never shut _up_ – “

“Neither do you, apparently,” Bones growled, face flushing a pale rose as he hooked his saber back onto his belt.

“ – but nevertheless, she totally thought you were the shit for freeing her,” Jim concluded. “Maybe you should take up Chess instead.”

“Like you?” His friend challenged, face still high with color as he shook out his robes, fingers rummaging in their hidden innards before pulling out a – hypospray?

“No! No,” Jim disagreed instantly. “Not like me at all. You’re your own man and if you want to continue getting snowballed – ” the hypospray twirled in his Master’s fingers, looking slim and ominous. Force but Jim hated those things. “I mean, play cards totally fairly then that’s up to you.”

“Damn straight, kid. Now what did you want – ”

The ear splitting screech of metal slamming hard against the side of their vessel made both men freeze, the emergency proximity alarms sounding far too late. Seconds later the hiss-flare of the cruiser’s shield going up could be heard. Immediately the sound of something hammering against it reverberated between alarm blasts; the surprised shouts of frightened passengers following quickly on its heels.

Eyes seeking out his Master’s own, the two of them shared a quick look, they low buzz of their training bond flaring brightly back to life. As one they turned towards the door, shoulders squaring. Whatever was going on, they would face the chaos together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, if I wasn't writing Jim and Bones as Jedi, I'd probably write them as smugglers. It's pretty damn easy to imagine Jim with a blaster at his side. Or is it just me? ;)
> 
> Many thanks for the lovely encouragement! :)


	4. Chapter 4

There were times in Leonard’s life that being a Jedi Knight and Healer meant facing the worst the universe had to offer; be it sentient made or just the ebb and flow of the will of the Force. He understood this reality better than most. Balance was important to most Jedi – if a life must be taken, a new one would be born– but even with the Force swirling around him, its comfortingly familiar tendrils washing away the fear and anguish of so much pain and life lost, he couldn’t help but feel as though he should have been able to do more.

Silently turning away from the lifeless body before him, he absently smoothed his fingers over his robes, the edges torn and still smoldering, and scanned the crowded and chaotic medical bay. There was so many injured and in pain, their screams and moans blending together with the gut wrenching sound of weeping of the frightened and lost. It was like a ghastly, haunting symphony.

One he’d heard far too many times before. One that made him feel incredibly tired inside.  Old, like the elder Healers from the Temple’s Hall of Healing sometimes seemed.

Eyes once again scanning over the swarming medical bay, taking in the occupied bio-beds, the huddled figures stuffed into chairs and empty corners, he felt the keen tug of his bond with Jim. It had been mostly muted over the last few hours, as if his padawan was closing off his end and allowing Leonard to put all of his focus and concentration on the sick and the injured. It made Leonard frown, affectionate exasperation and worry filling him.

He would be the first to admit that Jim could be a pain in the ass at the best of times – that smart mouth and charm of his could get them both into a hell of situation on any day of the cycle – but he was also one of the most selfless and tenderhearted sons of bitches Leonard had ever met. It made him want to protect the kid, from himself more than anyone else, and was one of the many reasons why he’d taken the younger man on as his padawan. Jim might put on a good show but Leonard knew all too well about that soft underbelly the kid tried to hide.

Blowing out a breath, hand coming up to scrub at his tired face, he felt a warm flutter of relief flare inside of him when he spied a flash of sandy blond hair and tan but torn and grimy robes near the medbay doors. The feeling, however, was shorted lived. Gaze sharpening, he eyed the man struggling forward under his padawan’s guidance. He looked dangerously pale, blood flowing freely over the tattered remains of his Federation sanctioned uniform.

“Put him on the bed, Jim,” Leonard ordered, voice carrying over the den of noise in a way that only a true physician’s could. Turning away, knowing without looking that his friend would do exactly as he was told, he grabbed a nearby med-tricorder, fingers fumbling into his robes from a hypo. “Where’d you find this one?”

Jim’s voice when it came sounded entirely too weary and drawn; rough and raw around the edges as though he’d just got done with a particularly grueling session of katas. “He was the last we beamed aboard. He insisted.”

“Damn foolish,” Leonard muttered, more to himself than anyone else, as he waved the tricorder over the man’s prone form, lips settling into a grim line. It wasn’t looking good. Not good at all.

Glancing up at Jim, taking in the haggard but determined expression, he felt another wave of affection flow through him. From the sudden tilt of his padawan’s head, some of what he felt must have spilled over into the bond. “You did well, padawan.”

The smile Jim gave him didn’t quite meet his eyes, the normal shine in them dulled by exhaustion, worry, and brutal resolve, but it would have to be enough for now. Refocusing his attention back to the man in front of him, he pressed the hypo as gently as he was able to against the man’s neck, watching as the sedative took affection. Not that it would do much good.

“Know who he is?” He asked after a moment, mind and body working on autopilot as he tried to stave off what was looking to be inevitable now. Even with enhanced Force Healing, there wasn’t much he could do for the man. Just make him comfortable.

“Captain of the Farragut, Stephen Garrovick,” Jim supplied, voice catching ever so slightly. “He stayed aboard. Wanted the rest of the crew to get off first.”

A jagged shard of pain bloomed through their bond, the edges of it digging into Leonard’s gut before he felt Jim tug it back sharply and let it melt into the Force just as he’d been taught to do.

“Jim…” Leonard started, hand hovering over the Captain’s chest, the swirl of healing Force flowing through him and easing the man’s passage. The blood, ruby red like crushed Alderaan cherries, smelled sticky sweet and rusty between them. Sighing, he shook his head.

Now wasn’t the time. It never seemed to be when it came to Jim’s past. “We need to find out what happened. This all seems a little too convenient if you ask me and the Farragut was a ship of the line – not one that would be prone to accidents.”

The soft rattle of Commander Garrovick’s breathing, disturbingly wet and sucking, sounded quietly beneath the screeching moan of a nearby patient. Jim shook his head, mouth beginning to pinch. “There were scorch marks, Bones. I saw them right before we started transporting people over.” He looked up, meeting Leonard’s gaze, eyes hard. “Someone tried to blow the Farragut straight out of space. There was no accident.”

The apprehension, the strange shadow of somethingelse, something _unbalanced_ , drifted through him, cutting through the healing Force that flowed and made him feel, for the first time since leaving the Temple, every inch the Jedi Knight he was.

“There’s a presence here, Jim. A signature in the Force.” He met his padawan’s eyes over the bio-bed, the small spark of life slipping away beneath his fingertips. “One that I haven’t felt before.”

“I feel it too, Master,” Jim replied, eyes dropping to the Federation Officer on the bed. Leonard nodded, hovering hand coming to rest on the finally still body of Captain Stephen Garrovick, Commander of the U.S.S. Farragut. There was nothing more he could do.

“The Force be with you, Commander,” Leonard murmured, hand lifting to disappear back into his robes. For a moment, he stared passed his padawan, the healer in him aching to mend all the broken bodies and broken hearts around them. “We need to get to that star base, Jim.”

“We’re only a few more parsecs away,” was the immediate reply. When his padawan’s eyes once more met his, they were blazing. “I’ll see what I can do for transport.”

Nodding, Leonard turned his attention on to his next patient.

“Get to it, padawan.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random trivia: Commander Garrovick was never given a first name in Star Trek but his son (Ensign Garrovick), who served on the USS Enterprise and showed up in several novels and comics, was referred to by several names - Stephen, Tom, and David - and played by Stephen Brooks. That's where the name came from. 
> 
> I'm not entirely happy with this chapter. I really wanted to include more action in it as well as more of McCoy being a healer but it just didn't seem to fit. Let me know what you think and, as always, thank you so much for the warm encouragement! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you for the kudos and encouragement! They keep me motivated when I'm trying to marry these two universes together without pulling my hair out. Also, forgive any glaring errors; I read over this chapter several times but I still feel like something slipped through my fingers.

Gamma Solarii VI was by all accounts a primitive planet.

It was filled with abundant vegetation, a wide variety of animal species, and a humanoid population that would, very likely, consume its inherent riches within the better part of a millennia. It also had a climate that was well within the parameters of what most humanoid species would consider habitable, though much colder for those of pure Vulcan physiology. For Spock and his own much altered standards, it was moderate enough that he would be able to function unhindered by extra robes or unwanted bodily functions such as shivering.

Fingers moving over the console with practiced ease, he laid in a course for the nearest geostationary docking station, relying solely on the ships’ more advanced technology to maneuver through the last of the star base debris. Much of it had drifted, somersaulting outward into space. It was as if whatever cataclysmic event that had happened on the base had come internally and forced it to rip itself apart from the inside out.

Eyes lifting to the circular view screen of his ship, Spock stared out at the last few pieces of wreckage that drifted nearby, their bodies twirling lazily. A small piece of hull no bigger in size than his torso was well within ship range, making it easy to see that, although the initial explosion had ripped it apart from the rest of the hull, it was not overly scorched or charred. Likewise, a mechanical device of some sort, one that looked incredibly similar to a hydrospanner with melted ends, floated by without much more than a few grease marks to show for it.

It would take a powerful explosion or, perhaps, several small and carefully placed ones to cause such a catastrophic and consuming blast. One well beyond the capabilities of a small single-person ship such as the Jellyfish, whose directed energy weapons would do little more than destabilize the star base’s shields and cause minor damage to the hull and possible persons in the area of the direct-hit. Removing himself from the distinctive triangular pilot’s chair, Spock stood, mind whirling with a variety of potential possibilities.

While the Gamma Sector’s star base was not immense – housing only a quarter of standard Federation star base allotted personnel, all of whom would be responsible for overseeing normal operations and any temporary travelers passing through the area– it was considerably larger than the average freighter or even a bulk cruiser. Which left two possibilities: either a ship of the line, one equipped with powerful weapons and capabilities had blown the star base to pieces or –

Spock froze, face going blank as he stared hard at the interior of ship and the empty red matter storage facility. It had been empty for some time now, his Master choosing to move the precious and highly unstable matter to his own ship for closer and more personal protection. It had seemed like a logical step at the time; his Master and mentor was far more capable of protecting such an important tool for destruction than he was but now, with the remnants of the star base floating around him, he felt a vicious and sharp tug at the core of his being.

The only other option aside from a ship of the line was sabotage. One that was perpetrated in order to bring devastation and chaos to the Federation and one that would bring a mad scramble in his direction. Eyelids dropping to half-mast, fingers curling into fists at his sides, Spock could feel the insidious swirl of the Dark Side inside of him, the untamed power of it howling in every single molecule of his being, screaming out for –

_“The planet only has seconds left,” he exclaimed, the loud rumble of an unstable world echoing off the walls of the Katric Ark and trembling beneath his feet. Stones, large and deadly, tumbled around them, crushing sacred pieces of Vulcan’s long and honorable heritage. “We must evacuate.”_

_Holding out his hand, Spock stared at the Vulcan High Council; at his father and mother. Amanda Grayson’s face was ashen, smudged with dirt and swathed in sweat. She looked terrified, ill, and incredibly fragile beneath the Vulcan clothing she’d adopted in order to please his father._

_“Mother, now,” he implored, hand grasping out, willing her to hurry, to be safe in his caring and away from the destruction that was about to befall his people._

_Feeling her cool hand in his, so very human but alive, made his heart pound against his side, something that wasn’t quite relief heaving inside of him. He would keep her safe and alive, whole. Unblemished by what was about to happen._

_Turning, they ran, dodging falling stone, precious works of art, and bits of Vulcan heritage he knew that they as a people would probably never see the likes of again in their life spans. His mother’s breathing, so rapid and shallow, like a little bird, echoed inside the trembling corridors; his father’s heavy footfalls close behind. He would save them. He had to._

_Bursting from the tunnel, rocks sliding dangerously close to their precarious position near the edge of one boulder, his mother’s arm threaded through his own. Flipping open his communicator he all but screamed into it, demanding and low. “This is Spock. Get us out of here.”_

_The response was immediate, the instructions to stay where they were a small pittance to his worry. Squeezing his mother’s fingers comfortingly, he allowed her arm to slide from his own, taking a small step back even as the energizing beams began to wrap around them. They would be safe, together, a family._

_His mother turned to him then, her face white and lined with frightened tears, and her eyes…her eyes…_

Blinking, Spock uncurled his aching fingers, the bloody crescent moons his fingernails had dug into his palms welling green. The Force around him breathed with dark energy, crackling and primed, ready to strike out like a serpent. A storm was brewing inside of him, hot and aching and so unlike the cool balm of logic that it nearly crippled him.

But now was not the time for that.

Rotating back to the command chair, he moved forward, dark eyes drinking in the triangular back of the seat and the circular view screen. They formed a perfect replica of the Vulcan IDIC, the symbol of the basis of all Vulcan philosophy. It was one of the few symbols left of his people.

Almost instantly the soothing blanket of logic wrapped around him once again, tempering the wild darkness of the Dark Side building within him. If his assessment was correct, if indeed the star base had been sabotaged by some person or persons as yet unknown, then his Master had sent him into a trap. A trap that was designed to either kill or incapacitate him for a time, but…to what purpose?

“Dom-ki’sarlah,” Spock murmured, watching through the view screen as another speck of wreckage drifted by. If this was what his Master wanted, then so be it. “Nirak.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vulcan Translation:  
> Dom-ki'sarlah: So, it has come.  
> Nirak: Fool.
> 
> I wasn't sure if this archive supported hover-over text so I didn't include it. I'll always include translations at the bottom, though, so no worries! :)


End file.
